Princess Tutu: Chapter of the Duck
Akt 8: Conversations
Program Notes and Disclaimer at end.
I appreciate anyone who has read this far, I really do. Although most of the action is done and any buckles have been well and truly swashed, the characters still have a fair bit of sorting out to do.
Duck awoke, not on the bench in the sun, but in a bed, and a more or less clean one. It was light outside, but whether morning or afternoon she couldn't tell; the sky was white and overcast now. She sat up. She was wearing a too- large shirt.
She felt rested, although her throat still felt raw. There was someone dozing in a chair beside the bed.
"Rue?"
Rue's eyes opened, and she smiled at Duck. "Hello. How do you feel?"
"Better," said Duck. "I was only really tired, I think, but my throat hurts."
"This will help a little." Rue poured her a cup of water. She talked as Duck drank. "Kastchei is dead. Mytho was a little disappointed, he wanted to put him on trial, but no one else minded a bit."
"He hurt an awful lot of people."
"He did. Mytho's glad, though, that he didn't actually kill him."
"Is everyone else okay?"
"Yes. Fakir's hand is blistered and sore, and we all have some cuts and bruises; but all the others are all right, even if they're tired. Fakir thought it might be something about transforming. He says that changing into Princess Tutu always left you exhausted, and maybe it's the same for these people."
"And the Firebird? The other one came to get her. Did– did she hurt much? Are they still there?" Duck asked softly.
"No, I don't think she hurt, not at the end," said Rue. "Before we leave here you can read what Fakir wrote for her. It had to happen, Duck. A phoenix can't do anything else. You can see the other one on the peak. I think it might stay until she can fly. She said you promised to stay with her if none of her own kind came."
"Yes, I did."
"I'm not surprised," said Rue. "All things considered, though, it was very generous of you.... Fakir said that you didn't mind being a human again. Are you sure you'll be all right?"
"Yes," said Duck. "I did it before. Like I told Fakir, I didn't want to die. I imagine the worst problem will be proving I'm me, with no family around. There's no Drosselmeyer this time to do all that for me."
"I think we can help there. Duck, about Fakir... you might need to be a little careful. There's nothing to worry about, but just remember to take things a little slowly, would you? Do you realize you've grown? Last year you looked about thirteen. You look around fourteen or fifteen now, and I think you're nearly as tall as I am."
"What?"
"Yes. Fakir got a good look at you and I think he's a little stunned. Duck, you're really starting to look like Princess Tutu. Mytho said so too."
"That might be because... anyway... Was she pretty?"
"Umm... you never saw yourself when you were Tutu?"
"No, not really. I saw my reflection once or twice, but it was never important to really look. I just knew the costume was pretty, and that she danced perfectly."
Rue sighed. "To put it bluntly, she was beautiful. So are you, now. Just give yourself time to grow up. Both Mytho and Fakir are likely to forget, now and again, that you aren't exactly like Princess Tutu as they knew her."
"Once Fakir knew, he ended up calling me Duck anyway, even when I was Tutu."
"That's good to know."
"Um. What time is it? What do we do now?"
"It's still morning. Mytho and Fakir are helping to sort things out here. I don't think any of the, um, former statues are going anywhere yet."
"It wouldn't surprise me," said Duck, pausing to drink a little, both hands around the cup. She shuddered. "It was like shutting your eyes underwater and still being able to hear a little, but not able to breathe. I could never stop listening and I couldn't sleep. There are people who must have been here for years like that. I was so glad when I heard you and Fakir and Mytho, and the Firebird. And–" She paused, then went on, a little unsteadily. "I think, Rue, I know a little now about how you and Mytho felt– you know– with raven's blood. I could feel his heart in me, always trying to find out if I could be hurt, and what it could do to me, and I couldn't get away. It couldn't really do anything while I was a stone, I guess, but for a long time I didn't know that. Kastchei was like that too. It was nothing like Mytho's heart."
She only realized she was crying when Rue sat beside her on the bed and gave her a handkerchief.
"I wish you hadn't had to find that out," sighed Rue. "The Firebird gave me something that will help control it, but... it's still with us. I think it always will be there, underneath."
"I don't think it will take over again, though. You both know better, right? I'm sorry," Duck said eventually. "The first time in ages I can talk, and I keep crying."
"You've had a rough time," said Rue. "But it's over now. Do you want to sleep a little longer? One of us will stay with you, you know, until you're ready to be by yourself."
"Not yet. Tell me– where did you go when you left? What was it like, outside of town?"
"It's a little hard to explain," said Rue. "But I think when Fakir said the Prince could live as he wanted, Mytho managed to take advantage of it. We went into the story, to– a place– where we could both be for a while. There was music, and we could dance, or read, or explore, or ride, or anything else we wanted. We'll go back now and again, but he wants to do all he can for Goldkrone and the Academy, and we want to see more of the world.
"Anyway, we left after a few months, before we could get restless. We ended up following the Danube and arrived in Vienna just before Christmas. And, oh, Duck, you'll have to see it someday...."
Duck was content to listen. Rue's eyes shone, describing a world that Duck could hardly imagine after a brief life in Goldkrone. At some point it occurred to her that, despite being married, Rue might still be a little lonely.
"Did you meet a lot of people?" asked Duck when Rue grew quiet.
"Yes, I did," she said. "But– and please don't misunderstand– I still haven't been able to make friends easily. There are a few, and I enjoy their company, but only you and Mytho and Fakir really know me, the bad with the good. And no one else could believe what I've been."
"And I was a duck," said Duck. "But it's been the same for me. Last year there were Pique and Lillie, and they were fun to be around, but I couldn't tell them anything important. And even now, Fakir's a guy. There'll be a lot he won't tell me, probably, that he'd tell Mytho."
"Exactly."
Duck giggled. "And a lot we'll never tell them? I'm glad, Rue. Fakir's been the only one I could talk with all year. No one else even believed I could, not even Charon. It got to be really hard, thinking like a girl and being a duck. I've been wondering what I really am all year, and I think maybe my real self has something to do with what I want to be instead of just whatever shape I was born. But now– I'm happier than I've been since you both left. Maybe I can start ballet again."
"If you want to try, Mytho and I will sponsor you to the Academy. You can stay with us between terms. I'm afraid you shouldn't really live with Fakir and Charon any more."
Duck sighed. "I suppose not... Thank you so much, Rue. I might miss flying a little now, but I've missed dancing so much. Is there, um, anything more I can wear? I need a bathroom. And I ought to stretch."
Prince Siegfried spent that morning helping the old Baron's daughters, Mathilde and Inga, and Prince Ivan to organize Kastchei's captives and servants. They were even now exploring the castle, cataloguing Kastchei's loot and scrounging food. There were sleeping bodies on benches in the Hall, sitting in the sun in the courtyard, anywhere at all that might be remotely comfortable.
Baroness Mathilde sent messages to the village, commandeering a few of Kastchei's servants whom she recognized and who couldn't seem to quit the place fast enough; in addition, several of the petrified victims had not wanted to linger.
"The Jaeger cousins will do as I ask, and they can run fast and far," she said placidly afterward. "As for the others, it may have been wasted breath and they will not stop running. But there should be carts to meet us by tomorrow and the village should be prepared."
Duck awoke from a brief nap to hear voices, and many footsteps tramping up and down the stairs through the half- open door, and feet stomping overhead. Rue, true to her word, was going out only as Fakir came in with a tray. Duck sat up to share hard, dry rolls and cheese and a large crock of tea with Fakir, whose hand was now bandaged. She was finding it easier to talk about what had happened, but wanted to hear what had happened to the others. Fakir filled in the story of their journey and the confrontation on the tower, and the Firebird's last moments. Duck did feel like crying again then, a little, but knowing that she was hatched now and wouldn't remember any pain helped.
Well, she thought, Pique always said I bounced back fast.
But....
"Fakir, what's wrong?" It wasn't that he had ever been good at displaying pleasure; still, he was depressed about something. She persisted, gently, quite ready to leave it alone if he balked; and he knew he'd have to answer.
"I've been pretty useless," he admitted at last. "I nearly dislocated Rue's shoulder at one point, and had nothing to give to this whole effort until the end, except for the nights I could write for you. I couldn't even keep that feather away from you."
"It wasn't going to let you or anybody else stop it," replied Duck. "Take it from me. It would have found a chance, and we were going to come here anyway. And Rue doesn't blame you for anything. From what I hear there's about a dozen people downstairs who'd think that it was everyone's job to get you here to do what you did. You did okay, whether you want to believe it or not. Now be happy."
That did make him snort. "Bossy."
"I'm going to miss living with you, you know," she continued.
Now that would sound highly improper coming from anyone else, thought Fakir. "I'll miss having you underfoot, too. Why did you leave? We knew you'd molt sometime. You had me scared...." He stopped himself. It was all past, and she didn't need to feel bad about it now.
"I panicked, I think," she said. "I'm sorry, I really am. I just woke up one morning shedding feathers all over, and I felt like I needed to get to the water. But when I got there I was too tired to go back right away. I got into that dry place under the willow, but the longer I stayed the more I shed and the worse I felt. I thought I was really sick. I could hardly stand the water long enough to feed, and I couldn't fly, and the flock just kept waiting to attack. Molting isn't supposed to happen that way, it's supposed to be really gradual. I itched, of course, but I ached too, and I was way too sleepy half the time. I felt so dull, like it was getting hard to think. That's something I'd been afraid of," she admitted reluctantly. "I didn't want to stop being me, to stop thinking– and don't you say a word."
"Wasn't going to. That's scared me too."
"Anyway, I couldn't swim or fly, and I didn't even think I could walk far, and I didn't want you to see me like that– it might be silly, but it wasn't pretty, and I couldn't have escaped a dog or cat, much less one of the other ducks. Finally my new coat came in enough so I could get out and feed a little; that was a few days after you told me about that letter. Then Rue came along about the time I thought I was ready anyway, and scared the flock away long enough for me to get out. And that's about it."
Fakir nodded. She was right, there wasn't much more that could be added except his own remembered fears, which were pointless now. He changed the subject.
"Um, Duck–" He really had no idea how to approach last year's vow to her. Maybe it should wait a few days; he had no intention of breaking it, anyway. "So... why... did you kiss me?" Where did that come from, and why was it so hard to ask?
"Because I've wanted to, and ducks can't," she said, quite red- faced. And, she added silently, if true love's first kiss has any power to keep me from going back to being a duck again all the time, I couldn't have waited for him to think of it. It's not the sort of thing that shows up in his stories.
"Umm... so as long as we're already embarrassed...." he started. She nearly choked on her tea, but she was laughing, and then he did too. How can we be so shy? We've been around each other constantly for a year! Ridiculous. "Anyway. It's probably not the right time to bring it up, but... that first story I wrote for you, when you were Tutu, that one I didn't let you read...."
"It had a lot about how I– or we– felt, didn't it? About Mytho?"
"Yeah."
He was grateful that Duck understood what he couldn't seem to ask outright. "I'll have to straighten this out with him, too, I think. I still love him, of course, like you do, but it's nothing like– how I felt last summer. Most of what I felt when I was Tutu, the part that made it hurt, that all went away when I gave back the heart shard. She– we– couldn't help it, you know, she was part of him and needed to go back inside him like the other shards. Drosselmeyer was right; she did turn into a speck of light and vanish– just like the others did when we returned them. I never quite worked out what feeling Tutu was, but it has a lot to do with loving himself, and wanting to be whole, and– well, I guess we could call it Hope. She was a lot more complicated than the others, I think, maybe because she had her work to do. Since the shard's been gone, though, I've just been happy to see him smile, and glad that he isn't lonely anymore."
She realized that they had put her in the master bedroom of the old tower when Fakir left her for long enough to get ready for dinner. She wondered why there should be an unstrung crossbow propped in the corner, until she saw that there were a few packs and two familiar swords as well, and for some reason a pair of hose and a costume doublet folded on top. More to the point, there was a tarnished hand-mirror and chipped washbasin and ewer, and someone had left her a comb and a balding brush; apparently personal grooming had not been one of Kastchei's priorities. Rue had been right. Duck felt fine, but different than she had a year ago, and if she thought too much about it she would only confuse herself. She realized as she combed her hair that the untameable lock atop her head was gone, growing with the rest of her hair at last. Certainly without it she looked neater than she had ever been. She braided her hair out of habit, then left for dinner and found Fakir waiting outside her door, offering her his arm for the narrow, uneven stairs.
When they descended to the first floor, it looked like a small jumble- sale. Clothing and jewelry, antique arms, furniture, books, rugs and hangings and furs and artwork; some smaller items were being apportioned by Prince Ivan and the new Baroness to each victim, more was tossed out into the courtyard as unsalvageable. Duck was startled to find that she and Fakir were being given a heroes' welcome, and presented with gifts.
Once in the Great Hall Mytho introduced Duck to the former prisoners and servants, as well as Karl Schmidt and two of the other guides who had arrived that day. Several of Kastchei's servants were no older than she appeared to be; after the formalities, she and Fakir drifted over to join them in the corner they'd staked out, a little uncomfortable in adult society, until dinner was served.
".... And it made me fly here, faster than they could follow."
"Fly? How?" asked a skeptical boy.
"Weeelllll... to tell the truth, I was a duck."
"A duck? Because that was your name, or what?"
"Something like that."
"You're a were- duck?"
Oh dear, she thought. I'll never live that one down. Fakir is trying so hard but he's going to laugh....
Stories of her kidnapping that had led to Kastchei's death had been circulating all day, as had the tale of Prince Ivan and the pursuit of Kaschei, and after supper they were all called upon to tell it to the company themselves. They had warned Duck that it might happen, and to downplay Fakir's role, in light of Drosselmeyer's fate. She had never addressed so many people before, at least not in speech; but in the event they had all pulled benches and stools around the hearth and just talked, which was reassuring. She was able to leave most of it to the others anyway, since she was still hoarse. The dry mountain air didn't help. But there was drink for that, and food, and others of the company telling their own tales, exciting and terrifying by turns.
Before they left the next morning Duck read the lines burned into the rock, and looked up at the cloudy peak where no sign betrayed the presence of the Phoenix and its foster- parent this morning. Then the long, straggling line of freed captives left, the Prince and Karl Schmidt leading, a watchful Prince Ivan bringing up the rear with Fakir's borrowed sword in hand. But as the procession wound down through the forest, the new firebird glided over and across their path, singing, and circled high above for hours.
Whereupon Duck felt that the valley, with its slowly changing panorama as they wound toward the main road and the village, was the loveliest place she had ever been.
Program Notes: I had nothing specific in mind for this chapter at all. Storytelling by the fire might use Beethoven's Symphony no. 7 in A-major, second movement. The softer, more melancholy passages were suggested already for the castle itself, but there's plenty of scope for scoring a tale-spinning session. His Symphony no. 5 in C-minor, fourth movement (third and fourth together, actually) might suffice for the walk back to civilization, at least to set the mood.
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of HAL– GANSIS/TUTU and Ikukoh Itoh and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.
